


ENDLESS NIGHTS

by bivalkyre



Category: Marvel, Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man - All Media Types
Genre: F/M, M/M, Multi, Other, Reader insert fic, give my favorite characters canon therapy marvel you cowards, idk what else to tag this, some angst with fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-17
Updated: 2018-09-17
Packaged: 2019-07-13 14:13:36
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,192
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16019591
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bivalkyre/pseuds/bivalkyre
Summary: Your boyfriend Peter Parker has healed from all of his phyiscal injuries, but not the emotional ones. And despite his assurances otherwise, you know he needs help.





	ENDLESS NIGHTS

**Author's Note:**

> Warning(s): some angst w/ fluff, cursing, a little blood, mentions of mental illness and treatment
> 
> A/N: umm it’s ya author coming at you live with my first fic, brought to you by bitterness at the fact my fave characters aren’t getting canon therapy fdshakslfs. Not really au! but like in the future i guess.
> 
> (originally posted to my tumblr bivalkyre on july 28, 2018)

        You woke up to the sound of your boyfriend screaming again. It was a sharp, jarring sound; it was a sound that pulled you out of your sleep by your heartstrings every single time.

        You drowsily reached over to the other side of the bed, with sleep still muddling your thoughts, but your world suddenly held clarity the moment you realized you felt no one there beside you.

        Only then did you notice that the screaming seemed further than usual, and it was tinged with the sour taste of frustration more than the usual bone-shaking terror. Also, shortly following it, was the sound of shattering glass. Immediately, your eyes snapped open and you got out of bed, shaking off any remaining fatigue in your body. Quickly, yet cautiously, you left the bedroom and walked out into the hallway. “Peter?” you called softly, only to receive no response.

        Your blood chilled and you felt a nervous pit begin to grow in your stomach, but then you heard it. It was soft, but it was there; you could just hear it over the loud pounding of your heart. The sound of sobbing escaped through the small crack between the wall and the bathroom door, along with a pale yellow light that fell heavily on the floor.

        You walked closer, the floorboards seemingly screaming in protest as you inched closer in the quiet of the apartment. “Peter?” you asked again, practically whispered it, as you knocked on the bedroom door. With no answer, you carefully opened the door to see Peter sitting on the edge of the bathtub, with his head in his hands, a white tank top covering his torso, and loosely fitting gray sweatpants hanging on his legs.

        His exposed arms allowed you to see the bloody knuckles on his right hand, and when you observed above the small sink, the old mirror there was now newly splintered.

        At the sound of the door opening, your boyfriend looked up at you, allowing you to examine his face under the dim lighting of the room. His eyes, evidence of the sleepless nights and the constant crying, were bloodshot and puffy. His shoulders were hunched, and his muscles were tightened.

        “Petey,” you said, the old nickname falling off your tongue in a hoarse voice just at the sight of how miserable he looked. You stood awkwardly near the doorway of the bathroom, watching how he nearly flinched at the concerned expression on your face.

        “I’m fine, Y/N/N,” he stated, already knowing what you were going to say, but his voice cracked in the middle of his statement and his eyes welled up with tears.

        “You’re clearly not fine, Peter,” you insisted, gravitating toward the boy you love. You ran a hand down his left arm, providing him with a gentle touch of comfort, before gently helping him to stand on his feet. You could not help but notice the purple bruising decorating his delicate skin, but for now, you said nothing. And Peter, now completely silent as well, allowed you to lead him over to the sink and complied as you prepared to meticulously clean the cuts on his hand.

        You grabbed the medical kit from the cabinet to clean and wrap his hand, after making sure there was no glass from the mirror in any openings of his skin, and you patted it when you were finished. “All done,” you offered, breaking the fragile stillness that had fallen between the two of you.

        He sat back down on the edge of the bathtub as you returned the medical kit to its place, and you could tell he was bracing himself for your next words. This argument was a repeat of one that the two of you had hashed out many times before, except this time was different. This time, the wound you found yourself cleaning up was self-inflicted, and both of you could feel the tension in the room. “Peter, I think you need help.”

        “I have you,” he replied instantaneously, as he had multiple times before, “and you’re all the help I‘ll ever-”

        “No, Peter!” you interrupted, much more loudly and much more emotionally than you had wanted to. You exhaled quickly at the sight of the vulnerability in his eyes before continuing, “You need real help. Like a therapist! A trained professional! Maybe even some meds! Someone who isn’t me.”

        Peter’s expression soon turned angry as he retorted, “What the hell an I gonna do, Y/N? Find some random therapist and be like, ‘So hey, my name’s Peter Parker. I’m the true identity of Spider-man, and I’m in love with Y/N Y/L/N, so yeah when you leak my identity to the media make sure you include that so my enemies can know and I can lose yet another person, that I care about.’ I mean, c’mon Y/N, what the fuck do you think–“

        “That’s not what I mean, Peter. Be vague. Keep the fact that you’re Spider-man out of it, you smartass. I just–“ You sighed heavily before continuing. “I know it’s hard, but we can’t keep doing this. You can’t be doing this. You spend endless nights awake and crying and hating yourself and being afraid to go to sleep and I,” you almost couldn’t finish your sentence as you began to choke up. “I just want you to be okay, Parker.”

        Peter looked up at you, as if a lightbulb had suddenly gone off in his head, and just now you noticed the difference in your height, and how it made him seem so much smaller.  “Hey, hey, hey. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to–“

        “You don’t need to be sorry, Petey. You just need to try. Even superheroes need help sometimes.” You carefully sat down next to him on the wide edge of the bathtub, gently turning his head so that his eyes bore into your‘s, happier now that the two of you were on the same level. “And I’m sorry too. I shouldn’t be so demanding. It’s just that I worry about you. Underneath that suit, you’re just a boy.”

        “I’m a man!” he protested jokingly, resulting in a snort from you and a smile from him. “But you’re right, Y/N/N.” He wrapped his arms around you, pressing your head against his shoulder and fondly, under his breath, he added, “You’re always right. I’ll look into a therapist and maybe a psychiatrist tomorrow, okay? I promise.”

        “Good, and I’ll help you. You know I love you, Peter Parker, right?” you murmured, your voice muffled by his tank top.

        “I do,” he replied. “And you know I love you, Y/N Y/L/N right?”

        “Yeah,” you replied, “I know, Petey.”

        “Good, because I do.” He placed a feathery kiss against the top of your head. “I really do.”

        Both of you knew there was no use in attempting to sleep again, so you stayed like that, holding each other tightly on the edge of the bathtub, until the morning sun seeped through the small bathroom window, carrying a new hope neither of you had felt in a long time.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks so much for reading loves! I hope you enjoyed it! Kudos and comments are much appreciated! :)


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